


Domesticity

by My_floaty_coaty_boy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon Dean Winchester, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_floaty_coaty_boy/pseuds/My_floaty_coaty_boy
Summary: What if, instead of Sam leaving when he turned 18, Dean left?Sam saves the world. God thanks him by resurrecting his mother. When Sam asks after his brother, who sold his soul to save Sam, God tells him that Dean is'nt dead--or at least, he isn't any more.





	Domesticity

“ _ Listen, Sammy, I can’t do this anymore. ‘M sorry...You could back out to, go to school, Stanford would accept you in a heartbeat--” _

_ “--Dean, no, I can’t leave him, he’ll get himself killed and you know it. I get that you can’t be around him, I do, but I have to stay--” _

_ “--Bull! You don’t hafta do anythin’!” _

_ “I...I’m sorry, Dean.” _

_ The front door slammed, and John’s voice echoed around the motel suite. “Boys! Get out here, we gotta go!” The sounds of John hurriedly throwing Sam’s things into his duffel continued as he yelled, “where’s Dean’s bag?” _

_ The answer, of course, was that Dean had thrown it out of their first floor bathroom windowsill, where he was now sitting, feet hanging outside. “Sammy, I--” _

_ “Go, Dean, now. Call when you’re someplace safe, ‘kay?” _

_ Dean’s eyes flicked between his brother’s imploring gaze and the closed door behind him. “OK. If you change your mind, call me.” _

_ “Sure.” _

_ Dean jumped, and began to run. _

 

_ \-- _

_ “Sammy?” _

_ “Dean.” _

_ “What...what’re you doin’ here? It’s 3AM, man--” _

_ “--Dean, it’s dad.” _

_ “...What about him?” _

_ “...He’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a coupla days.” _

 

They found John, eventually, at the end of a long, zigzagging journey across the midwest. 

Well. They found most of him.

John’s body was bloodied and beaten, and they began their quest for revenge on the Yellow-Eyed Demon Azazel. 

Sam bargained his soul for the Colt: a gun capable of killing any creature.

Dean bargained his soul for Sam’s, and goes to Hell. 

An Angel saves him from his 121st year.

When Dean finds himself topside, he meets the Angel, Castiel, standing over his grave. Castiel explains that time works differently here: it’s been merely a year since Dean bit the bullet, and Sam has adjusted to the hunting life alone--he even prevented the beginning of the Apocalypse, much to the chagrin of Castiel’s boss who sent him to save Dean in preparation for becoming the Michael Sword.

Dean goes with the Angel, in hiding from Heaven out of fear they’d try again.

\--

It had been ten years since Dean Winchester died.

The anniversary was always hard for Sam; Dean had saved him, after all. But now, with the Angels finally locked away in Heaven and the Demons bound in Hell, Sam Winchester can finally rest.

Except when has that ever happened?

“You know, Sam, I think you deserve some happiness--you’ve been lonely for a long time.” Chuck, or rather, God, considers. Sam simply shrugs.

“I think you do--and I know just who you need. Your mother--”

“--Mom? But...What about Dean? Or Dad? I never--I was too young to remember my mother.”

“Yes, well, now’s your opportunity. And, as far as Dean, well. I can’t bring back someone who’s still alive, can I?”

“Wh--What? Dean’s...alive?”

“Goodbye, Sam.”

“No, no wait--” 

A flash of light, a high-pitched ringing.

Ladies and gentlemen, God has left the building. 

 

\--

 

Sam and Mary worked well as a team, once Mary had adjusted to life in 2018. While technology had advanced significantly, monsters had remained largely the same, and hunting had only gotten easier. 

But they hadn’t only been hunting monsters.

Hunting down any trace of Dean Winchester had been a challenge. It had been a little over a year since Sam had learned of Deans continued existence, and so far, they’d found nothing. Not a trace.

Until a breakthrough: an article, from a local newspaper of a town in the South, about a cafe owner who’d disappeared following a murder he’d been accused of. A photo of the cafe accompanied the text, claiming the man, Benjamin Lafitte, had murdered a woman before disappearing completely. But in the window of the cafe was a face Sam would recognise anywhere, despite it being over a decade since he last saw him: 

_ Dean _ .

 

They’d hightailed it to where the cafe used to be, in a town called Lebanon, in Kansas. It was now a chain coffee joint. 

They suited up and used their FBI aliases to weedle information about the murder case from anyone they could, even asked if they recognised Dean from the photo in the paper. No luck.

It looked like Dean just didn’t want to be found. 

They were driving off, away from Lebanon, and suddenly they...weren’t. They were on a different road, an unfamiliar dirt track that drew them away from the squat buildings of the town and into a wide, unpopulated space. 

On the horizon quickly coming into focus as the car came closer and closer, was a town. 

“Where is that?” Mary asked him as he looked from the road to the directions on his phone.

“Uh...nowhere. I don’t...It’s not on the map.”

Mary leant harder on the accelerator.

  
  


The town was mostly older builds; with dark exposed outer beams mimicking the Victorian style and light, pastel-pigmented houses with well-manicured but unique lawns, each with their own layout, contents, and energy.

Shops were all locally-owned: a small grocers, a veg stall out front. A cafe, with large glass windows and small round tables. A bar that advertised food. A few others whose purposes weren’t clear, but had patrons with paper bags and large grins as they greeted other people on the street like they all knew each other.

Small towns. Go figure.

“We could ask ‘round here if they’ve seen anything.” Mary offered, pulling into a space behind a green VW bug on the side of the road. Sam nodded, and handed her her FBI badge. They walked into a pastel-blue bakery.

The occupants were few: a red-headed girl and a brunette in the corner booth, each with a milkshake and sharing a laptop screen; a shorter man with mousy hair down to his chin who held the door for them as they entered. He left quickly, blue cardboard box in one hand. The woman behind the counter--blonde, taller than Mary, seemed surprised to see Sam and Mary, but recovered quickly, greeting them with a cheery, “Hey, welcome to  _ Donna’s Delights _ , I’m Donna, what can I help you with today?”

“Uh, hi,” Sam greeted, flashing her his badge briefly before continuing, “My partner an’ I were wonderin’ if you’d heard anything about this?” He showed her the article, noting the way she seemed to stumble mentally for a moment before replying.

“Sorry, agents, but I can’ help you there. I heard about the case, but haven’t seen anythin’ unusual.”

“What about the man in the window, do you know him? We have reason to believe he knows something about the location of Lafitte.” Mary egged her on.

Donna bit her lip, considering them.

“Do I need to remind you that it’s a crime to impede the course of justice?” Sam bit out, not catching Donna’s brief and stifled grin.

“O’ course not, I’m jus’ thinkin’. Uh,  _ agents, _ I think you should check out the house with the green door an’ cherry tree in the yard, on Main. I think you’ll find whatcha lookin’ for.”

“Thanks, Ms…”

“Oh, call me Donna, ma’am.” Donna nodded and smiled. “I hope it all works out for ya,  _ agents _ .”

 

Back in the car, Sam turned to his mother. “That was... _ odd _ , right? She...she knew we were lying.”

“And she still told us where to go. Very odd.”

“Well...I guess we check out that house, huh?”

The house on Main, had no fence outside, but it did have a large white covered porch, with two trees, cherry and apple, on either side of the stone path leading up the centre of the front yard to the green door. They circled the block a few times, scoping the place for anything suspicious before parking across the street and watching.

Ten minutes had passed before the door swung open with a loud  _ bang _ and a man with dark hair stormed out towards them. The sky seemed to darken, and the smell of ozone flooded their senses, making their ears pop. Sam rolled down the window as the man approached and saw his unnaturally blue eyes. Something in him recoiled. 

“ _ Who are you?”  _ The man’s voice was deep and dangerous. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir, please step back.” Mary affirmed, but the man’s glare only hardened. The sky flashed with blue lightning.

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve driven past  _ five _ times, and now you’ve been parked outside for  _ ten minutes _ . If you’re here that means someone sent you, which means you’re  _ hunters _ . This town and it’s residents are under  _ my _ protection, and I won’t tolerate threats like you. What brought you here?” 

“Why would this town be at risk of hunters?”

“ _ You don’t get to ask questions _ ,” the man replied. “ _ What brought you here _ ?” The lightning continued.

Sam felt something within him break, and he heard himself say, “We’re looking for my brother. My name is Sam Winchester.”

The man’s blue eyes widened minutely, but before he could speak, a voice--one that Sam would recognise anywhere--came from the house. “ _ Yo, Cas, what’s with the lightshow? Is everything OK?” _

The man--Cas-- turned his head to the side, but remained blocking the view. “Go back inside, Dean. Please.”

“C’mon, man, it’s nothing we haven’t seen-- _ Sam _ ?”

“ _ Dean _ .” 

Dean looked older, if only by a few years. His green eyes hadn’t changed, neither had his flannel-and-band-shirt style, but it was clear he was no longer the boy who ran from their dad, or the man who Sam had seen die. 

_ Sam had seen him die _ .

“How are you here?” They’d spoken at once. 

Dean huffed in a humourless laugh. “You’d better come inside. We...have a lot to talk about.” They exited the car.

That was when Dean saw Mary. “...Mom?”

Mary smiled at her oldest son, and Cas huffed before turning and walking back inside the house. His movement seemed to snap Dean back into the moment, and he led them inside.

 

The inside of the house was frighteningly domestic: A hallway lined with art on the walls, leading to a living area with a bookcase crammed with books and a largeish television on top of a cabinet filled with a console and games. Cabinets with tchotchkes and photos-- _ family photos _ \--a large, black couch against the wall. The other end of the hallway led to what looked like a kitchen/dining area, and a dark wood staircase led up to a higher, unseen floor. 

Dean led them through to the kitchen, where the oven hummed quietly, golden light casting onto something inside a red baking pan. Dean pulled out chairs from a solid dining table, inviting his brother and mother to sit. 

“Mom...How are you alive?” Dean’s voice was quiet, unsure. 

Mary’s smile was small. “God brought be back after your brother saved the world, Dean.”

Dean took a breath before sighing explosively. “Wow, uh...Good job, Sammy. I...It’s great to see you, mom.”

“...That’s all you gonna say, Dean?”

“Well, sorry, Sam, but I don’t know the social convention for this!”

Something about this startled a laugh out of Cas, who had settled against the counter between the oven and the farmhouse-style sink. 

“Oh, yeah, laugh it up, I don’t see you helpin’ any.”  Dean snarked, and the man rolled his eyes,

“Apologies. I’ll be sure to give you cue cards, next time.” 

Dean huffed again, looking back at them. “Uh, Sam, Mom, meet Castiel.”

“‘Castiel’? That sounds like--”

“--An Angel, yeah--

“--Which leads me to my next question, Dean, I  _ saw you die _ .” Sam pushed. “How are you here? How long have you been alive?”

“Uh...I spent a year, Earth time, in the Pit before Cas pulled me out.” 

Sam gasped, “You’ve been alive  _ nine years _ and you never found me?!”

“You had it handled! Besides, we couldn’t risk the Angels--or Demons, for that matter--finding us.”

“Wait, wait, Dean...You said ‘one year, Earth time’. What does that mean?”

“Time,” Castiel began, forcing them to look over at him, “works differently in Hell. Faster. Forty years in Hell is about four months here. Dean spent twelve months in the Pit, enduring torture of all kinds from Hell’s deadliest. It felt like a year for you, but for him--”

“One hundred and twenty years,” Mary gasped, “oh, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s over now. But, y’see, that kinda time...it doesn’t just go away. My soul... _ changed _ . It’s...different, now.”

“‘ _ Different’ _ ?”

“Dean has demonic qualities. His eyes can turn black, when driven to it, he can use small but powerful amounts of magic. He would age slower, he’s harder to harm, near impossible to kill.”

“You’re a  _ demon _ ?” Sam spat. Dean flinched, and Mary hit him on the shoulder.

“Sam, don’t be rude.”

“I’ve never hurt anyone. This town found us, took us in. We protect them, help them.”

“And...everyone in this town is...like you?”

“They’re not human, but they’re good people, Sam. They just don’t want to hide. There’s a protection spell on the town, and the people vow peace when they arrive.”

“So, what, you’re like some kinda sheriff?”

Castiel laughed again. “You two really  _ are _ brothers.”

“...How long have you two been together?” Mary’s question was quiet.

“Nine years.” Dean’s reply. “Last year, a woman came into town: Human. Pregnant. Her name was Kelly, she…”

“She didn’t survive the birth. We took the boy in.” Castiel finished solemnly.

“You have a kid? Together?” Sam asked, and Dean nodded, humourless smile on his face.

“Yeah. Wild, huh?”

“Is he here? Can we see him?”

“You’re hunters. I shouldn’t have let you stay this long. I won’t permit you anywhere  _ near _ Jack.” Castiel’s animosity returned, and his posture straightened, but Dean stilled him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“He’s napping right now, but if you’d like to stay…?”

“Dean, outside.”

Dean sighed, but followed the Angel out of the room, throwing apologetic glances to Mary and Sam. Of course, they eavesdropped on the couple as they whispered to each other.

“We shouldn’t let them get too close, Dean.”

“It’s OK, Cas. They’re OK.” 

Sam glanced at his mother, who bit her hip in amusement, puzzling Sam.

“You don’t know that,” Castiel hissed, “You haven’t seen either of them for  _ years.  _ How can you trust them--”

“They’re my family, Cas--”

“So am I, so is Jack! And Charlie, and Donna, and everyone in town! They need to be protected, they have to come first--”

“They are!” Dean snapped. There was silence for a moment, before Dean exhaled slowly. “They are. They do. I trust Sam--I raised that kid, I’ve told you what it was like. And Mom…” a sigh, “...I promise you. You trust me, right?”

“...Of course, Dean. Always.”

“Awesome. C’mon.”

“I feel the need to inform you your family has been listening to our conversation.”

Dean laughed. “I know, man.”

They ended up staying for dinner. The thing in the oven turned out to be a chicken pie. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal--possibly never--and Dean flushed when Mary praised him. 

When a cry sounded from upstairs, Castiel vanished with a rustle of feathers and a displacement of air. The crying stopped after a moment, and Castiel’s footsteps echoed down the stairs to where the group had gathered in the living area.

Castiel cradled a small bundle of blanket in his arms, and Mary rushed to him, awwing over the small, blond child with honey-coloured eyes and pudgy little fists balled into the Angel’s shirt.

“Mary, Sam, this is Jack Kline-Winchester-Novak.”

“ _Hey!_ I’m your grandma, I suppose.” Mary pulled a face, and then grinned. “Don’t know how to feel about that.”

Dean snorted. Sam asked, “‘Kline-Winchester-Novak’?”

“Uh--Cas an’ I are kinda hitched. Obviously, it’s not legal--we don’t exist, according to the government, but...I mean, it’s a ‘holy union’, right? Anythin’ Cas does is holy, by definition. We’re Angel-married.”

“Shit, Dean--”

“Don’t swear in front’a my kid, man--”

Sam laughed, for the first time in a long time. “Congrats, dude. I guess ‘Kline’ comes from…?”

“Kelly, his mom. She an’ Cas were close, he felt it was important for her not to be forgotten. So, the kid has the longest last name ever.” Dean took him when Castiel held the boy out to Dean, and Sam couldn’t help but smile when Jack held his finger, reaching for his hair.

“You need to cut that Chewbacca hair if you’re gonna be this kid’s uncle, Sammy. Five minutes with some clippers, man, I swear.”

Mary laughed, and Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to leave his brother again.

**Author's Note:**

> hey. This is just an experiment. I aim to explore Dean's demon side more, as well as Castiel's place in the town, and how Sam and mary adjust to life surrounded my 'monsters'.


End file.
